What's the Point?
by Schizophrenic Nightmare
Summary: Masaomi and Izaya engage in a deadly dance of a relationship without description. Izaya is satisfied and knows where he stands, while Masaomi stumbles while trying to find his place. As he struggled through figuring out his 'boyfriend', he often finds himself thinking "What's the point?"
1. Chapter 1: Abscond

**Chapter One**

**Abscond**

_**"To flee, often secretly; to steal away"**_

Kisses as soft as butterfly caresses and lingering fingertips on ivory flesh. Honey hued eyes slowly opened, to see a gentle smile reflecting in the dimly lit room. It had to be but five in the morning, but Izaya was already wide awake. With an unintelligible grumble, Masaomi rolled over and faced the other way.

Lean fingers deftly traced along the boy's shoulder, knowingly setting fire to the boy's nerves. It was adorable how Masaomi though he could resist Izaya.

The gentle smile gained a wicked edge, and the fingers slowly glided lower and lower, slipping under the blanket. He outlined the boy's side, though he knew it by heart. That didn't make it any less sensual. He rubbed slow, lazy circles on the boy's hip, crimson eyes shining with glee.

"Nnn... piss off..."

Izaya chuckled lowly, pleased that his lover was now awake enough to form coherent words.

"Masaomi-kun," he drawled. "I need your help."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't a request. Heck, it wasn't even a proper statement. It held no truth. Masaomi and Izaya both knew that. The boy said nothing, however. He reached a small hand out of the blanket and grasped something on the floor. Pleased that he had collected the right thing, he tossed his sock at his dark haired lover.

Izaya collected the item off his nose, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, amused expression no more. "Very funny," he commented dryly.

It was something Masaomi often remarked upon. It was as if their libidos were swapped. Izaya was always horny and ready to go, much like a teenage boy, while Masaomi sometimes had to put his foot down and say no. He often made references to many movies about it, but he preferred a certain American franchise, offering Izaya his socks or to make him a peanut butter sandwich for Izaya to relieve himself with.

Izaya caught every single reference. And Masaomi knew when to accept defeat.

Absently tossing the sock aside, Izaya pulled back the blanket, revealing Masaomi's nude body to the cold air. With a cry of protest, Masaomi's eyes shot open and he attempted to curl up in a ball, but he was suddenly assaulted with Izaya's body heat as the elder male straddled him.

"Izaya, not now!" Masaomi whined, forehead furrowed in irritation.

"Masaomi-kun.." Izaya purred, ducking his head down. He pinched the sensitive skin of the boy's neck between his teeth and lavished attention upon it with his tongue. He suckled and bit and licked and kissed. Before long, the boy was a writhing, moaning mess between him.

Pretty blue and red marks bloomed along ivory flesh. It was a beautiful sight.

"Masaomi-kun is my canvas..." Izaya breathed, before leaning down. His lips captured Masaomi's, embracing them for a moment, before releasing. The kiss was slow and lazy. However, whenever the elder's tongue attempted to slip into the wet heat of Masaomi's mouth, Masaomi's own cool muscle would push it away. It was a familiar dance. Masaomi's last act of defiance.

Thin fingers tightened in silken, blonde tresses. Masaomi's back arched and gasp slipped past now parted lips. Izaya retreated, kissing the boy's nose, before attacking his neck once more. Masaomi tilted his head to the side, lidded gaze unfocused as he melted under Izaya's expert ministrations.

Masaomi was alone when he woke up again. He reached for his cell on the nightstand. It was an expensive little thing that relied on pressure on the screen, rather than little buttons. It had taken a while to get used to but, he prevailed.

It was just another of Izaya's little gifts.

The screen was too bright for the young boy. He hid his face under the blanket instinctively, before peeking out. Slowly, the screen came into focus. His honeyed orbs locked onto the corner in which the time was displayed, before his boyish features were graced with an unhappy frown.

It was only seven.

Exhaling wearily, he scooped up his clothes and dragged them under the covers, where he dressed hurriedly. He didn't have to worry about neighbours seeing him in the clothes he wore the day before; Izaya owned the whole floor to himself, the rich bastard. The thought caused Masaomi to grit his teeth.

What was the point of this relationship? Masaomi had nothing to give. Izaya was genuinely sweet only half the time, and Masaomi was an unruly brat most of the time. What was the fucking point? But still, neither of them pulled back. Izaya would text Masaomi, asking if he wanted to stay over. Masaomi would text, asking if they could meet up. Izaya would kiss the boy. Masaomi would gasp as Izaya whispered his name ever so softly. They were bitterly sweet.

Masaomi had once found an American song which had their relationship down to a tee.

_What a match; I'm half doomed and you're semi-sweet_

The boy pulled his dark shirt over his head, under the safety of the covers. He didn't like Izaya seeing him naked, despite their deeds. He was embarrassed that his thighs touched, though Izaya didn't mind when he was pressing soft kisses over them, and absently drawing the kanji for _Izaya _with his finger along the chubby flesh.

_So boycott love.._

His stomach protruded, though he'd been assured that it wasn't noticeable. He didn't care. It was there.

He was ashamed of himself, though his vivacious personality said otherwise.

What was the _fucking_ point?

_Detox just to retox_..

The English lyrics pounded away in his mind. He only knew a few phrases here and there, but he'd looked up two different translations of the song, before studying the original. It fit them so well it made him sick. His grip on his white jacket tightened, before he yanked it over his dark shirt. What a contrast. Two opposites. That described his whole personality so well. Black and white. It all depended on the company. Though, all that fucking grey whenever Izaya was involved...

_And I'd promise you anything for another shot at life_

Next were the pants. He wriggled his way into them, arching off the bed to pull them over his round, almost feminine hips. _So much nope,_ he complained silently. _Why do pants even exist anyway?_

Once he was dressed, he climbed out of bed and lazily attempted to straighten his clothes. Leaving the bedroom, he absently noted that Izaya was hard at work. Namie was sorting through manila folders. Neither of them acknowledged him. Good. Approaching the door, he slid his shoes over his sockless feet (one had been under the bed, the other wherever Izaya had tossed it), before leaving the apartment.

_Imperfect boys and their perfect lives.._

Once he was out of the building, he allowed himself a quiet chuckle. Izaya seemed like such a powerful figure to some people. But just as aware as Izaya was of Masaomi's imperfections and flaws, Masaomi had even seen Izaya's own. He knew as flippant as Izaya could be about his work, sometimes he would get stressed with it, and snap angrily.

Turning away from the forebodingly tall building, his hands were shoved absently into his pockets. Time to head home, dress, shower, eat, then await Izaya's next text. That was okay. That was how they worked. It was familiar. He didn't mind. Sometimes, he liked their dynamics.

_Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy._

**A/N: Ah. Izaomi, bc why not? Masaomi is a character I identify with greatly, and have a strong connection with, though I have great doubts on my portrayal of him. As for Izaya, I'm almost positive he's OOC, but this story is AU so whatever. **

**Please review. I love each and every one of you.**

**Credits: the song Masaomi was referring to is **_**Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes **_**by **_**Fall Out Boy**_**. It's in my 'Izaomi' playlist, so I thought I'd include it.**


	2. Chapter 2: Blemish

**Chapter Two**

**Blemish**

_**"1. A small flaw which spoils the appearance of something**_

_**2. A moral defect; a character flaw"**_

Masaomi had something of an oral fixation. He constantly suckled upon lollipops, or chewed on the strings of his jacket. It was something he did absently, without thought, but Izaya had started to draw attention to it. He generally did so with a lot of whining and childish complaining, which Masaomi often shot down with a quick remark.

"Ne, Masaomi-kun? If you like having things in your mouth, how come you never-?"

"Because you're disgusting."

"Uwwa, Masaomi-kun! You wound me so..."

The truth of it was that Masaomi had never performed oral sex on anyone, and he was terrified of Izaya mocking him. Izaya did it so expertly too...

Lately, despite not having much of a sweet tooth, Izaya kept a nice stock of lollipops and pocky sticks in his kitchen. Masaomi wasn't sure if it was a kind gesture, or something selfish. He never could tell when it came to Izaya. But whenever he stayed at Izaya's apartment, it was rare to see Masaomi without a lollipop or pocky stick in his mouth. Izaya's knowing eyes would trail after him as the boy wandered through the apartment.

Masaomi was over so often, he'd begun to treat the apartment like his own home. He ate when he pleased, and went through Izaya's impressive collection of books without asking. Izaya didn't seem to care.

"Hey, Izaya?"

Crimson hued orbs glanced up, quickly focusing on the small blonde curled up on the couch. Masaomi averted his gaze to his hands, where he clutched both a pocky stick (strawberry flavour) and a lollipop (cherry).

He wanted to ask. Was desperate to know.

_What's the point?_

But he was terrified of the answer.

"Never mind..."

Izaya leant back in his beloved swivel chair, studying his small lover carefully, attempting to read the boy. Masaomi figured Izaya knew what he wanted to ask anyway.

"Masaomi-kun, why do you have candy in each hand?"

The question was innocent. Simply curious. Yet Izaya's eyes were dangerous. Masaomi didn't notice. He continued to stare at his treats. "I dunno. I couldn't choose which one I wanted, so I took both..."

He heard Izaya get up. Masaomi slumped down, peeking over as the dark haired informant sat next to him. What was the bastard planning now? He shuffled wearily away from the man, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What are you scheming, you bastard?"

Izaya's hands rose in a placating manner. "Just improvising," he cooed in that sickeningly sweet voice of his.

Masaomi relaxed, allowing the informant to coax him into his lap. Knees either side of Izaya, he lowered his hands. Lips connected in a sweet kiss. Izaya prompted. Masaomi complied. His thin, pink lips parted and Izaya's cool, wet muscle began exploring the hot cavern of the boy's mouth.

The blonde began to wriggle his hips, arousal burning in his abdomen. He felt Izaya smirk into the kiss, before the elder male pulled away. He collected the lollipop from Masaomi's limp hand and provocatively traced his tongue over the circumference of the candy, before sucking it into his mouth. It was a vulgar display that left the boy throbbing.

Izaya began removing the boy's shirt. Masaomi lifted his arms to further along the process. Once the shirt had been discarded, he crossed one arm over his stomach and began nibbling at the pocky stick, relishing the strawberry flavour. He didn't notice Izaya's sharp gaze softening somewhat as he caught the boy's insecure action.

Rather than abandoning his plan and proving to the boy he was beautiful, Izaya grasped the stick protruding from the bottem of his candy and removed it from the confines of his mouth, before trailing it along Masaomi's chest, leaving a sticky trail in it's wake.

The boy flinched suddenly.

"W-wha- _ohhh._"

The boy's confusion dissipated as it circled his nipple. The wet, sticky candy wreaked havoc on his nerves and he dropped the pocky stick onto the couch as he roughly grasped Izaya's hair. It felt sosososososo good. Different, yes, but they needed to do this again.

Izaya chuckled lightly, before trailing it down the boy's abdomen. Masaomi arched into the sticky touch. His incessant tugging grew a touch rougher, and that seemed to please Izaya, as the small blonde soon found himself on his back with Izaya discarding his bottoms.

"Ne, Masaomi-kun, I have a fun idea." Izaya claimed lightly, dragging the lollipop along Masaomi's chubby thigh. The boy gasped as it began circling the base of his cock. Izaya was always amused that the boy preferred to go shaven, but he was thankful for it now. It made the job a lot cleaner.

"Do you want to hear my idea?"

Masaomi couldn't concentrate on the words. He was too busy focusing on the sensation of the sticky treat lightly pulling at the sensitive skin covering the vein on the underside of his cock. He arched his back with a loud groan, eyes slipping shut.

"Masaomi-kun, are you listening to me?"

Yes. No. Yes! Nononono! The treat had begun circling the crown. Izaya's saliva no longer coated the treat, but its rough stickiness didn't bother the boy. The pinching sensation it gave as it rolled over his cock had tears gently caressing his chubby cheeks as they fell, but he didn't want it to stop.

Izaya retracted the treat and began to suckle upon it once more. Masaomi whimpered pathetically, wriggling his hips. The dark haired informant pitied his young lover, so he fisted the abandoned cock and pumped him roughly. Masaomi keened in pleasure.

All too quickly, the hand disappear, and he felt something wet and sticky probing at his entrance. Honey hued eyes widened.

_What-...?_

_"No!"_

But it was too late. The sugary treat was pushed into the boy's tight ring of muscle. It was lubed up with Izaya's saliva so the journey in wasn't too painful, but it felt so _weird. _He was used to something where the width was continuous impaling his entrance. However, once Izaya began to wriggle the treat around, Masaomi was no longer complaining. He gasped loudly, and clawed at the leathery couch. He avoided Izaya's gaze, however. The informant looked all too smug.

The candy pumped in and out. Masaomi found himself moving his hips, trying to match the pace. It didn't feel as good as Izaya, but it hurt less. He bucked against the treat, crying out as Izaya once again began pumping his engorged cock. The pace of the hand and the candy matched, throwing his senses into overload. He arched and writhed, growled and moaned, scratched and pulled.

He could feel it...

Approaching...

It was too soon. Far too soon. The thrill of doing such a dirty thing had made it all the better. He was approaching his edge, and from the way Izaya's ministrations sped up, the smug bastard knew it too.

Mind a haze and limbs moving of their own accord, Masaomi clutched Izaya tightly as he came, arching off the couch and panting heavily. Izaya pulled the candy away and sat it on the coffee table. The blonde lazily closed his eyes, relaxing into the couch, before suddenly sitting up, eying Izaya wearily.

"You never get me off without expecting something in return."

A smirk in the bright, open room.

"What if I simply wanted to get you off to see your beautiful expression when you climax?"

"That's not it."

Izaya exhaled sadly, though it was false. Masaomi knew. The bastard had something in mind.

"You're right,"

"I know,"

Izaya stood, unbuckled his belt and gracefully slid off his pants and briefs, before sitting. His engorged organ stood proud and stiff. Ignoring his own state of arousal, the informant collected the boy's discarded pocky stick and calmly ate it.

"Oops. Now you don't have a treat anymore. Looks like I'll have to do."

Masaomi flinched. Izaya laughed.

He gave in, praying he wouldn't choke.


End file.
